A Beautiful Evil (Gods & Monsters #2)

A Beautiful Evil (Gods & Monsters #2) Page 28

Then she gazed out over the hall, where her living curse still coiled and slithered above the platform like smoke in the air. With harsh, demanding words, she pulled the curse back toward her and then sent it with the flick of a hand to Sebastian, using the same powerful language as before.

The curse hadn’t worked on Violet, so now she was after Sebastian. But unlike with Violet, the curse attacked him, the words swirling viciously around him, shooting into his body, making him writhe in pain. He grabbed the arms of the chair, knuckles turning white.

“Stop it!” I shrieked at the top of my lungs. “Please stop!”

I scrambled up the steps, heart pounding, electric with panic as the power inside me uncoiled like an angry serpent. Don’t think, just strike. I grabbed his ankle, staring up at him as he gazed down, his face screwed into a deep frown at the grim realization that he could do nothing to stop this.

“I’m sorry.” I closed my eyes and let my walls crumble, releasing the monster inside me, giving up control. This wasn’t fighting. It was different—hope, love, sacrifice, the absence of fear. . . . Energy ballooned, pushing against my skin, wanting out, and this time I welcomed it with everything I had.

It was dark energy, violent and alive. It hummed, a shivery path from every part of my body, down my arm and into my hand. I forced it all into Sebastian.

I lost all sense of time and place, existing in a bright void of mind-numbing ancient power.

When I finally came to, my sobs were so loud they echoed through the quiet hall. I still held on to Sebastian’s ankle, but my hand was asleep and my body weak and empty.

I didn’t want to look, but my gaze went to him anyway.

Oh God.

Sebastian was white marble. Beautiful. Frightening. Stone.

Twenty-Four

I COULDN’T GET ENOUGH AIR INTO MY LUNGS AS I TRIED TO process what I had done. Sebastian sat there on his throne as though carved by Michelangelo himself. Hands curled around the edges of the chair, face frowning down at me, hair falling over his brow, legs spread apart . . . Like some troubled young king, lost in his own tormented thoughts.

Athena leaned against the side of the throne next to Sebastian’s. A broad grin split her face. Her arm was draped over the back and she drummed her fingers on the gilded surface.

The other gods stared at me in shocked realization. They now knew what I could do, knew that I was different, that Athena hadn’t quite been truthful about her “baby gorgon.” Now would have been the perfect time for me to grab her, to do to her what I’d done to Sebastian, but I was tapped out. I had nothing left.

Athena bent down, slipped a finger through my hair, and curled it around and around. “I knew it,” she whispered with an odd note of pride. “I knew you could do it. You’ve done so well, Aristanae, so well. . . .”

She glanced across the expanse of the hall to the alcove with the statue of Zeus, and then her eyes swept over the banquet, gleaming with victory and anticipation.

“Feast well, for once we’ve had our fill”—her words rang with a powerful echo—“we take our Procession to New 2!”

The place erupted. Cups slammed on tables. Creatures roared and cheered. The sound was deafening.

Athena clapped her hands and signaled for louder music and more food. “Eat, Aristanae!” she called to me with laughter in her voice.

I frowned in confusion. One second she was fighting me, the next she wanted me to eat. She’d orchestrated this down to a T, and I’d showed her the extent of my power, used every bit of it to the point that I couldn’t even turn a gnat to stone.

“Enjoy the food, the company. . . .” She gestured down one of the long tables to where Menai stood with the cloaked figure I now knew was my father.

I didn’t react; I was still in shock. Athena waved at two guards, and they grabbed me under my armpits from behind and dragged me away, my legs sliding over the floor.

And all I saw was Sebastian getting farther and farther away.

Sebastian. So beautiful. So cold. I saved him. Yes, I saved him. Hadn’t I? Oh God. What have I done?

And then Violet came into view, walking behind me with two guards escorting her. She was holding Pascal, crying, and she was angry, her face mottled red. Crying for Sebastian, I knew.

The guards dumped me at one of the long benches.

A place had been made for me at the table, and it wasn’t until I was sitting that I realized I rubbed shoulders with my father. Menai didn’t join us, and instead moved back against the wall. Unsure of what to do or how to snap out of it, I placed my hands flat on the table on either side of my plate.

I sat there until the shock of what I’d done to Sebastian lessened. I started to tremble and bitterness settled into my bones.

Violet’s tiny hand slipped into mine. Her chin jutted out and her expression was fierce. I gave her a miserable attempt at a smile. “I’m sorry, Vi,” I whispered.

“Is Bastian . . . dead?”

“Michel can fix this,” I promised. “The Novem, they have the knowledge to bring him back.” They had to. Because if they didn’t . . . Confusion warped my thoughts. Why? Why had I done this? Deep down in my subconscious it had felt right, the right decision. I had saved him. I’d done what some elemental part of me, some level I didn’t understand, urged me to do. But now I wondered if I’d been wrong.

Time passed. Everything hurt. Everything shriveled and burned until I felt like a husk made of ashes, and the slightest breeze blew bits of me away into nothing.

A rough hand settled over mine. I turned to my father. The hood kept his face hidden. White, puckered scars and bites covered his hand and wrist, but none of that mattered. My father was here. He was touching me, holding my hand.

“I don’t know what to say to you,” I blurted out. What was I supposed to say? Sorry I left you in Athena’s prison before. Been wondering about you all my life. How the hell are you?

“We have much to say, you and I,” he said slowly, “but now is not the time or place.” His hand squeezed mine tighter. “You”—he paused to clear his throat—“you were just a babe when I was taken.”

My father had done the unthinkable by loving my mother instead of killing her as his duty commanded. Together, they had fled to New 2, and Athena had come after them, whipping the Twin Sister hurricanes into a supernatural frenzy. After promising them refuge, the Novem had turned on my parents and handed my father over to Athena in exchange for her promise to leave the city and never return. Of course, that promise hadn’t lasted. . . .

“I never thought I’d see you grown,” he said.

And I’d never imagined back in my pre–New 2 days that I would meet my father under these circumstances. All my life I’d wanted to know my family and what it’d be like to have real parents, and yet I found myself not wanting him to say more. Not here. Not like this.

“Why is she letting us sit together?” I asked instead.

“She is training you, Ari. Rewarding you. All her machinations have been to determine your worth. Worthy of killing or worthy of keeping as a weapon. For what end purpose, I don’t know, but this is what she does. She breaks people and then uses them like pets. And she is showing off in front of her guests, letting them know she does not fear you.”

“Who are they?” I nodded toward the gods at Athena’s table.

“Artemis. Apollo. The ghostly one is Melinoe, daughter of Hades.”

He leaned closer to me and the volume of his voice dropped. “Listen to me, Ari. Athena is not done with you yet. I have known her long and known her well. Whatever goal or plan she has is not finished.”

A servant leaned forward and filled my glass.

“You’d do well to eat and drink,” he suggested. “The night is far from over.”

How could I eat when Sebastian was a marble statue presiding over the hall?

Still, he was right, so I broke off a chunk of bread and shoved it into my mouth. “You think I have a chance in hell of killing her?” I watched Athena feasting and conversing with the gods at her table.

“There is no one stronger. No one smarter than she,” he said, and my hopes started to sink. “She is always steps ahead of those who wish her harm. Yet you continue to surprise her. As does Violet, for reasons I can’t quite figure out.”

“Great. So surprises aside, we’re screwed.”

“There is one thing she cannot foresee, and that is the extent of your abilities. The curse has been passed to you from your mother, but you are my daughter as well, and that makes you different, perhaps beyond what you’ve shown tonight.”

“What do you mean?”

He lifted his other hand just barely to show me the hilt of a weapon peeking from beneath his sleeve. His hands curled around it. “You are a hunter, Ari. Each hunter, each Son of Perseus, excels in perception, focus, stealth, and accuracy. We are the weapon. Every hunter carries a blade forged with his own blood. It makes him strong, always accurate, always deadly. The blades can become extensions of our power, imbued with it. Most hunters see no need to invoke this power, for they are strong in their own right. My blood is in my blade, Ari. Our blood,” he said, almost breathlessly.

Goose bumps rose on my skin. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying use my blade when the time comes. Make it an extension of your power.” His hand withdrew back under the sleeve of the cloak. “No more talk,” he said as several guards walked by us.

We fell into silence as the feast carried on. My thoughts ran wild—when would he give me the blade, how would I use it with my power, and how the hell was I going to get Violet and my father out of here?

When Athena rose to prepare for the Procession, I saw my chance. She sent guards to collect us, and then she swept regally from the room with the gods in tow. We were escorted from the main hall and down the long corridor, which led to the prison.

My father walked behind me, a guard on either side of him. I was in the middle with two guards to keep me company, and Violet was in the front with a pair of guards flanking her.